Favors
by Alician Grinns
Summary: Sam needs a favor, Ainsley accepts, humour ensues, Fresca all around. :) My very first fic, so all of you lovely people's reviews are appreciated!


"Knock, knock."

Sam Seaborn stood in the doorway of the Steam Pipe Trunk Distribution Venue, also known as the Associate White House Counsel's Office.

"You're wrong."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!"

"And I don't want to, Sam," sighed Ainsley Hayes, briefly glancing at her visitor before returning to… whatever it was that she was doing. "I am totally swamped, and overwhelmed, and exhausted, and—"

"—Hot," interjected Sam.

"Pardon?"

"It's, like, 100° in here. That was supposed to be more of a question, actually."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Your sarcasm is not appreciated."

"Neither is your presence. Sam, what do you need?"

"Help." Ainsley heard his sharp intake of breath almost as soon as she heard the word. She smiled to herself before putting on her game face.

"Okay," she said in the most professional way possible.

"Really?" asked a startled Sam.

"My Democrat Devil-Spawn co-worker comes into my little corner office from hell at 11:30 on a Friday night and asks me for help," began Ainsley.

"I'm waiting for the other boot to drop," muttered Sam.

"Of course I'll milk for all it's worth…"

"There we go."

"…But, yes, I'll help. Maybe. What do you need?"

"I need a date." Ainsley froze.

"What?" she asked as Sam breezed down the stairs and into the room perching himself on the edge of her desk.

"Tomorrow's the seventeenth."

"Yeah?"

"The Secretary of Agriculture is hosting a fundraiser for, like, underprivileged cows or something of equal or lesser interest."

"I see," mused Ainsley.

"It's at some over-priced five-star restaurant."

"Okay… No."

"Why not?" Sam craned his neck to catch sight of Ainsley's face. She continued playing with her pen in a somehow meditative way. In short, she ignored him.

"C'mon, Ains… please?"

"So all of a sudden we're best friends? Honestly, Sam, you're going to be the end of me. Besides, don't you have _other _female acquaintances you could ask? I'm sure _someone _would say yes."

"For your information, I tried."

"You mean you got shot down?" Sam sighed.

"…Yes. Look, Ainsley, I am asking you, _please, _could you go to this thing with me? The only other people that are going to be there are over 55 or have the mental capacity of a pig. The President himself is sending me as a formality, mostly because he doesn't want to go, which he made very clear to me when he asked."

"That sounds appealing," said Ainsley bluntly.

"It'll be fun, come on!"

"Sam, you just described to me the single most boring evening I have ever had the displeasure of imagining. Why on Earth would you even—I mean, wouldn't look funny if a Democrat and a Republican went together?"

"Well, we wouldn't be on a _date _date. Just think of it as a night of intellectual stimulation."

"With men that have the mental capacity of pigs? I don't think so, Buster. I mean—Wait a second." Sam braced himself. If this didn't go smoothly, he'd have to out 'Plan B' into action.

"Wait a _second. _You just want to bring me so you can have someone to debate in the midst of boring old men."

"And women," piped up Sam.

"You are so desperate that you'd rather get angry at someone to relieve your boredom?"

"Well… yeah." Ainsley sighed in exasperation. Sam did the same. It was time for Plan B.

"There'll be food. Fancy, over-priced food."

"You said that."

"I'll pay for the fancy, over-priced food." He cringed inwardly. Ainsley seemed to mull over it for a second, but Sam knew she'd already made up her mind.

"I suppose… if it's _free…" _began Ainsley.

"Yes?"

"There's a two drink minimum."

"No."

"Well, why not?"

"I can get the President down here right now to give you a few dozen reasons why—"

"—Okay, okay! Fine. But you're paying. And I expect a night of intellectual stimulation with pig farmers and idiots, alright?"

"You got it."

"Will there be Fresca?"

"I'm sure we can arrange something."

"Is that it?"

"Yeah…"

"Then leave. I need to work."

"As you wish." A few moments passed in tense silence.

"Why are you still here?"

"It's just… I forgot to mention, you might want to shower before—"

"Seaborn!" Sam darted out the door before Ainsley could throw anything.

Once he was alone, he smiled to himself. This was going to be fun.


End file.
